


The Curse of the Welshman

by RayByAnotherName



Series: The Pendragon Dilemma [5]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coming Out, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Literary References & Allusions, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-11 13:49:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11149719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayByAnotherName/pseuds/RayByAnotherName
Summary: Arthur just had to go and fall in loved with the worst possible person. Or the best. Depending on who's judging. Either way, Arthur's in trouble.--This will be the main story for Arthur and Merlin. Updated sporadically.





	The Curse of the Welshman

Morgana was always late – twenty minutes, almost to the second. Arthur was well-versed in Morgana Standard Time though, so he compensated. He arrived fifteen minutes late to the restaurant so as to keep the alone time with his father to as short as possible. Uther was already there, of course, his strong jaw and wrinkled brow schooled into his polite face - reserved for the House of Lords and his son. 

After fifteen more minutes Arthur started to consider drowning himself in the soup the server had brought for the table. Uther had spent most of the time ranting about Arthur’s grades, because taking a double course load wasn’t enough; he also had to ace everything. How dare he get a B in the Chaucer class Uther hadn’t wanted him to take in the first place?! The nerve!

His father was an imposing man with enough political experience to keep every criticism sounding constructive or well-meaning. Arthur had enough experience with the graying wrinkle to know that ever word was meant to cut him down. 

Morgana appeared just as Arthur’s ideations had turned to the butter knife and Uther had begun comparing the inevitable uselessness of literature classes to the endless possibilities of mathematics. 

“Please tell me you haven’t been talking about this the whole time?” Morgana asked as she moved around the table to kiss Uther on the cheek “Really, Daddy, he’s about to start his third year with degrees in Political Science and Business. One B isn’t making any kind of difference long term.”

Uther scoffed as Morgana took her seat, “Yes, well, only because it’s in some frou-frou English class rather than something important.” Arthur met Morgana’s eyes, begging for her to change the subject. Any other subject was better than this.

“Let’s talk about something vastly more interesting!” Morgana winked at her brother, painted lips turning up into a smirk, “Me.” She slipped her napkin into her lap as the water came over to dish out her soup. 

Arthur shook his head, amused, and a little jealous. Uther smiled at Morgana as if she hung the moon with each word. Even when she was just ordering an entrée. Arthur ripped his bread apart to dip into his soup. 

“Go on, then,” Uther gestured towards Morgana with his glass of wine. He sat back in his chair expectantly. His mood entirely changed from before. The dominance Uther demanded in every conversation melted away under Morgana’s smiles and laughs. 

Morgana sat tall in her chair, “I was in a call with my agent. She’s got me a job working for a modeling company right here in London.” Arthur perked up. 

“So you’ll be returning?” Uther looked pleased, a rare genuine smile spreading across his taut face. This was likely one of the only subjects that father and son were ever going to agree upon. Morgana back in London could only be good. “Staying at home?” Morgana nodded. Not that she had much choice. Arthur knew his father would never be ok with his daughter living in the city by herself, or, worse, with a man. 

“A friend of mine even found a lovely studio space for me to check out this week,” Morgana continued to explain as they ate. She kept her tone even, professional.  
Arthur grinned to himself around his spoon. There was no doubt in his mind that Leon was the so-called friend and that the studio was near his Primrose Hill apartment. Morgana always knew how to spin things with their father. 

“I’ll probably keep some things at the studio though. The house would be a bit far for early morning shoots. I hate getting up before dawn.” Morgana didn’t even look up from her soup, utterly nonchalant, and Uther just nodded his understanding.  
And just like that, his sister was living with her boyfriend.

Arthur held in his snarky comments till after dinner, when their father had taken a car back to his office for a few things before returning home. Morgana followed Arthur to his car for a ride back to her ‘hotel.’ Or so she told their father.

“Some things at the studio?” Arthur nudged Morgana when they were both seated in the privacy of his sedan. 

Morgana smirked, “Yes, some.” She was giggling. 

Arthur laughed, ducking his head as Morgana swatted at him. Primrose Hill was only a short drive from the restaurant in Hyde Park, but traffic always made it feel longer. Neither of the siblings minded.

“So,” Morgana looked at Arthur expectantly as they stopped at a light, “What classes are you taking this year?” 

Arthur groaned, flinging his head back against his seat. After the conversation with his father Arthur was loath to think about the coming year. Morgana had managed to keep the conversation centered at dinner entirely on her move to London. Now, he was paying for that distraction.

“Lots of poly sci classes, totally boring. A few business, more boring. A math class that Uther shoved at me last week, even more boring.” It was shaping up to be the worst semester of his academic career. 

“Anything not boring?” Morgana prodded with her elbows, an encouraging smile on her lips, “Anything in English?”

“I managed to squeeze in a Shakespeare class without him noticing. That’s all though.” Arthur tightened his hold on the steering wheel, biting back a less than appreciative remark. 

Morgana smiled brighter at him, “That’s wonderful!” She squeezed his arm affectionately, “You’ll be some famous author before you know it. Living the low life in a tiny apartment.” 

“Doubtful,” Arthur said, far less enthused than Morgana, “You know Uther’ll never let that happen. He’s had my life planned out for me since before you were born. And you heard him, English is worthless, I’ll never be able to take enough classes to actually learn anything.” 

The car came to a sudden stop in front of Leon’s building. Arthur kept his eyes straight ahead and his jaw tight. Morgana unbuckled her seat belt and reached over to force his head towards her.

She forced his eyes to look at hers, “Let me worry about Uther. I’ll work on him.”

“This isn’t like you and your photography, ‘Ana. I can’t even walk into a room right with Uther. I’m just cur–.”

“Don’t even think of finishing that statement,” Morgana interrupted him, her voice low, and Arthur looked away again. 

They sat in silence for a few moments until a car behind them started honking. 

“I’m in London now,” Morgana forced his chin back to face her again, “I’m very effective in person. Let me try to convince him.”

Arthur smiled, “It’ll be nice to have you close again.” It would. Life was always more manageable when his big sister could swoop in to save him from the bullies and the villains. 

Morgana kissed the top of his head, “Big sister will handle everything!” Arthur laughed as she let him go to climb out of the car. She ducked her head back in, "You work on being happy ok? Becoming that starving artist you’ve always wanted to be.” 

Arthur nodded and she walked away. He drove off. He trusted Morgana, more than anyone else in the world, but even she wasn’t a miracle worker. 

-.-.-.-

School started the next day and Arthur was taking more than twice the recommended credit load – only permitted by the school because his father wanted it to be. The year was going to be pure hell, he’d probably only be able to read half of his reading for the Shakespeare class – the only one he actually wanted to take. The rest of his time would be spent on subjects that, on a good day, made Arthur want to take a six-hour nap. 

Monday morning, though, he was up, bright and early. He had Managerial Economics first thing, then Corporate Finance at ten. He managed to eat a banana while crossing campus for some poly sci class about international relations. He kept his attention on it just long enough to get the impression that he was going to hate it. 

Arthur had all of five minutes to grab coffee from a cart before his next class, some other poly sci class he hadn’t bothered to remember the name of. He had two more tomorrow, along with the blessed break of Shakespeare before the damned calculus class his father had decided he should take. 

Not that he actually needed such an advanced math for either of his degrees, no, Uther just wanted to torture his son. Arthur was positive of this. The longer he thought of it, the angrier he got. 

“You should eat some chocolate,” a man standing behind him drew Arthur out of his negative thoughts. Arthur turned around to take in the lanky man – he had dark hair and bright eyes. He looked overly-skinny and he had large ears, but he was cute in that lost puppy way that Arthur really liked. 

“Excuse me?” Arthur said, without stuttering - thank you very much. 

The man shrugged, “It’s only the first day and you look like you’re about to down six cups of coffee and go on a murderous rampage. Possibly due to a caffeine overload, if the can of Red Bull sticking out of your bag is anything to go by." He continued after a minuscule breath. "I’d rather not get caught get in said rampage. So, chocolate. Chocolate makes everything better, Professor Lupin says so." 

The man was a bit odd, obviously, but his voice was like chocolate to Arthur’s ears. He had an accent. The kind that made orchestras and poets jealous at the kind of peace they brought to a man's soul. Arthur smiled at him, a laugh stuck in his throat. The accent was great. Not make-up-for-this-shitty-day great, but close.

He imagined most foreigners wouldn't recognize the difference between the various English accents, but Arthur could. He was positive it was a Welshman’s accent. Welsh! Uther hated Welshmen, for reasons Arthur had never been able to figure out. Maybe that's why Arthur liked the accent so much. Rebellion

This man was literally every kind of bad for him. Handsome, bright smile, kind voice. He must have done something really bad in a past life to deserve this kind of karma. 

“You’re next,” the man pointed behind Arthur, the queue had moved up. Arthur ordered his coffee (large, black, two shots of espresso) and started walking away without saying anything more to the man behind him. Arthur looked over his shoulder as he left to watch the man order a chai tea. 

Very, very bad karma.

-.-.-.-

Arthur was never as happy to enter a classroom as he was this one. The poly sci class he’d just finished was taught by a very opinionated ranter who was definitely not a fan of the Tories or his father. And despite Arthur’s usual efforts – a seat on the edge of a middle row towards the back and a book on his desk on top of his notebook – the professor had seen his name on the roll and immediately pinned him down with rhetorical questions. Because apparently it was his fault his father was ruining the country for the every man? 

This class though, Arthur expected to enjoy – he had loved Shakespeare since Morgana had read him A Midsummer Night's Dream as a child – so he took a seat on the edge of the front row. Once seated he pulled out his agenda, already loaded up with homework assignments from his other classes, and set to work squeezing the reading assignments in underneath the ones from his previous six courses. 

This Shakespeare class and his later Calc class were only once a week, so Arthur was hoping he could manage all the assignments for both on Monday nights after his last lecture. He could do the Wednesday work on Tuesday night after Calc. 

Arthur was already scowling at the agenda, seminars like this were notorious for their reading assignments and the syllabus was certainly holding up to such expectations. If the Calc homework took too long there was no way he’d be able to do both. He was contemplating rearranging the readings to do a little at a time. There were plenty of audio books of Shakespeare’s work, so those bits he could do while driving or walking to and from class

The smack of a candy bar landing on the desk in front of him pulled Arthur from his planning. He blinked at the chocolate nugget bar, realizing that it had missing his nose by only millimeters. 

“Eat. You’ll feel better.” 

Arthur looked up to find the overly attractive Welshman from the day before standing in front of him. The bright red scarf brought his attention to the man’s smirk.  
Arthur’s mouth hung open as he looked back and forth between the bar of chocolate – his favorite actually – and the man who had just quoted The Prisoner of Azkaban at him. “Thanks,” Arthur finally managed. The man nodded, his smirk fading into a light smile before he shuffled past Arthur to sit a few rows back. 

Of course the most attractive man Arthur had ever seen was in this class. Quoting his favorite film! Uther had told him he was cursed, this was just further proof. 

Still. The class proved to be the ticket to Arthur’s happy place. The professor had gone through the syllabus quite hurriedly, highlighting which reading he considered most relevant for the weekly discussion and informing them that half their grade was monthly papers on the readings and the rest would be a term paper discussing the modern literary value of their choice of Shakespeare’s work. 

Monthly papers! Not weekly, monthly! Arthur could manage that. He was practically giddy by the end of the lecture. The professor had spent most of it on the modern relevancy of Shakespeare, one of Arthur’s favorite topics. With his brain high on happiness Arthur looked behind him.

He spotted the Welshman – Merlin Emrys according to roll – as he slowly packed up his things. The lanky fellow was stretching near his own desk, making his blue hoodie rise up slightly to reveal heavily freckles skin. He looked to have woken up from a nap by the grumpy and groggy expression on his face. His dark haired was mussed up around his face. 

Arthur gulped and moved towards the man, trying to lift a friendly smile to his face. “Two hours of Shakespeare and now you’re the one who needs chocolate.” 

“Definitely.” Merlin groaned, pulling out a packet of M&Ms from his backpack as he walked towards him. They fell into step together leaving the lecture hall. Merlin smiled at him as they turned in the same direction. Even offered up some of his candy. Arthur felt a fresh wave of nerves come over him. The high from Shakespeare was coming down. 

“Do you have a class here as well?” Arthur ventured as they walked up the steps of the math building. 

“Advance Calc,” Merlin kept smiling at him, “I’m a Chem major.” Arthur nodded, the wave of nerves nearly tsunami-like at this point. His brain didn’t even question why a Chem major was taking an upper-level Shakespeare seminar. 

Instead he was entirely focused on the possibility that he could have two classes with the attractive stranger who carried chocolate around in bulk and smiled like it was the easiest thing in the world. Arthur could not be that unlucky. He just couldn’t. 

But he was. 

They walked into the same room and sat next to each other in the second row. It wasn’t overly awkward really. Well, yes it was, but only on Arthur’s part he was sure. Merlin seemed relaxed, almost excited. Arthur was wondering whether the fall from the classroom window would be high enough to kill him immediately or if he would slowly suffer from internal bleeding. 

The syllabus showed there to be extensive reading and a worksheet due for every session. It was hours of work. Hours. He barely managed to fit the page numbers in with the author name beside the ones for his Shakespeare course. 

The actual math, even when explained thoroughly by the professor, was above Arthur’s head. Way above. Atmospherically above. 

At least it focused him away from the man beside him. The one who was solving the equations as they were written on the board. 

-.-.-

Two more weeks into the semester Merlin pulled him to the side after math. He fidgeted slightly as they stood in front of the building in the fading light of evening, “Are you any good at English?” 

“Very,” Arthur spoke without thinking. His mind was slightly preoccupied bouncing between the Econ paper he had to finish in the next three hours and the way the sunset reflected in Merlin’s brown eyes. It made them shimmer like gold melted down, swimming around an ashen pupil.

“Well, I’m pretty sucky at it,” Merlin tilted his head slightly and Arthur’s focused snapped back into place, “Do you think you could help?” His hesitance must have shown on his face, because Merlin was quick to add on, “I could work with you on the math? I know you’ve been a bit lost during these two sessions?”

Arthur blushed – both from embarrassment that his lack of math skills was so transparent and because Merlin looked really cute when he was fretting. It was a bad idea – a very bad idea. 

He needed the help though. He’d asked Leon, but the math was beyond anything he had studied. No one else he knew was likely to have any better luck explaining the concepts and equations. 

But Merlin was his type. Exactly his type. The type he could write sonnets and elegies about, if he ever had the time. And Uther wasn’t so clueless as Morgana treated him. 

Arthur had managed to keep himself firmly in the closet so far though. And Morgana would help him if Uther got suspicious. And he’d get to spend time with an attractive, and apparently intelligent, man who was going to explain the math to him using his equally attractive accent. 

“Ok,” Arthur nodded his head, “You’ve got a deal.” It was still a very, very bad idea. 

Merlin broke out into a megawatt smile that had warmth spreading through Arthur’s body like only coffee could. They talked times as they began walking across campus towards Merlin’s dorm. Settling on Sunday afternoons and Monday nights before Arthur asked about the accent. 

Apparently Arthur had been right. Merlin was from Wales. He’d even been taught Welsh as a child by his father. “It’s technically my first language,” Merlin offered up when he saw Arthur’s shocked face, “I learned English alongside it, of course, but we speak Welsh predominately in my home. My father even writes in it most of the time.”

There it was. Arthur had somehow managed to find the most Welsh man in all of England. Probably. His father would kill him just for that, let alone the gay thing. “What does he write?” Arthur asked. If the sword was going to loom over his head anyway, he might as well sit on the throne.

Merlin chuckled, “Everything?” He shuffled his feet a bit as the finally stopped in front of the dorm, “Lately, I think he’s been writing children’s books. Turning old legends into fairy tales.” 

“That sounds amazing,” Arthur breathed the words, his head turning at the very idea. The smile that had been perpetually glued to Merlin’s face grew small at those words. 

“We could meet at the library?” Merlin suggested, rocking back on his feet and straightening his back. 

Arthur shook his head. “Not a fan. No coffee nearby,” his nose scrunched up at the very thought, “ I have an apartment not far from campus. Would that be ok?” Merlin agreed and handed Arthur his phone to swap numbers. Arthur reciprocated. 

The smiled returned as Merlin walked into his dorm, waving over his shoulder. The sun was finishing it’s setting just behind the building. Even with the lights of the city coming on around them, there was a glow. Merlin was walking into the light, into the future, into hope.

On the walk to his apartment Arthur felt the darkness creeping in around him more than usual. He reviewed the entire conversation, every word he spoke, every action he took. He tore each apart like he had the bread for his soup only two days ago. 

He leaned his head back against his door once in his apartment and took a deep breath, “Shit.”


End file.
